


Enough

by Elysionia



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Episode: s03e13 Chapter 39, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fight Sex, Gaslighting, Light Dom/sub, Love/Hate, Manipulation, Power Play, Rough Sex, Spanking, What could have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 09:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21195554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysionia/pseuds/Elysionia
Summary: Blood has pooled underneath his fingers and when he drops his hand, the damage is already done.(What happens inside the Oval office in Chapter 39 after the legendary fight.)





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings. If you want to skip the dub-con and stick to the cannon, then stop reading at the scene break.

_ ‘’Ah, how deep love is in its hatred _

_ Ah, how deep hatred is in its love.” _

Adonis, ‘Beginnings of the Body, Ends of the Sea’ (fragments), _ Selected Poems _(trans. Khaled Mattawa)

  


.:.:. 

  


‘’Claire’’ 

Her name falling from Francis’ lips gets her to swivel around in his seat. White veiled rose garden and navy blue of the presidential flag changes swiftly into a view of her husband’s grim face. He looks defeated, eyes dull and drooping from exhaustion. She’s battle ready, wearing a black turtleneck that covers up her body like a modern chainmail.

‘’They told me you were down here.‘’ He moves out of the doorway with heavy steps, shutting the world out behind him. Longcase clock ticks closer to 1 AM. He’s just closed Iowa and flown back to D.C to get her. People in New Hampshire are waiting for their arrival. 

Navy blue Air Force One jacket rustles as his hands fall limp to the side. Despite the recent victory he seems defeated. He had been looking for her, had waited for her arrival for hours in Iowa. Too optimistic in believing that she would come back to him. Sweet taste of victory tasted rotten in his mouth as the minutes ticked by while waiting for her. Patience has never been one of his strongest suits.

‘’I just wanted to come somewhere to think.’’ The perfect solitude of the White House forcing her to evaluate the shift between them. She hasn’t slept or eaten either. Her empty promise gnawing at her. Despite the many hours of tossing and turning her thoughts hit a wall every time they’ve rounded up back to him, to them. 

  


_ There’s a lot more to Francis and me than what you wrote. _

  


‘’Well I hope you have. And whatever was clouding your mind is gone. Because I just had to give a victory speech… alone.’’ He murmurs leaning his elbows heavily against the armchair. The white fabric hums as his fingers drum intensely against the mixed silk. He’s angry, she can tell it by the knit of his brows, by the grim undertone of his calm voice. The way he tenses his shoulders drawing them close to his ears. 

For 29 years they have done this together. Frank has never given a victory speech without her by his side. Now the race with Heather Dunbar is closer than he could have ever believed. Closer than he would like to admit and he simply can’t win this nomination without her. His presidency is hanging by a thread.

‘’And one way or another I need you on that plane with me tomorrow.’’ He’s already promised on live television that she’ll be there with him. Even if the secret service has to carry her on that plane with him.

Claire draws in a deep breath through tight set lips. For months she’s been banging on the invisible wall that divides them until her knuckles bleed red to get him to notice. His face stuck to the glass but still unable to see her through it.

  


_ Francis, I am. I am in front of you. _

  


A sudden urge to smoke rises up with the growing level of anxiety inside of her. Leaving the leather seat behind her to search for his secret stash of cigarettes from the ornate bookshelf. He circles the Oval, his eyes following her every move closely as she walks across the room. Sharp clicks of her heels muffled by the soft carpet. As her fingers reach for the silver pot, like reading her mind he sighs: ‘’No, the desk. Left hand drawer.’’

Claire shoots him a look before ambling back around the grande desk, pulling out the left hand drawer. The wood clatters with loose papers and pens as they slide to the bottom. Next to the silver cigarette case there’s the black marble egg from the easter egg selection. 

‘’You still have this.’’ She lifts the black marble egg from the drawer for Francis’ eyes to marvel before setting in down on the desktop. She’s surprised. He has never kept something irrelevant like this in his possession. The golden FLOTUS imprint shines brightly against the dark marble. Wave of revulsion washes over her. The egg reminds her of her superfluous and inconsequential duties as the first lady.

‘’Yes. It felt wrong to throw it out for some reason.’’ He muses leaning against the armchair on the opposite side of the Oval, watching her every move like hunter does to its prey. 

Bright flame lights up the cigarette between her fingers as she straightens her spine, holding her head up high as the white smoke climbs up towards the ceiling. She draws a deep breath from the cigarette, enjoying the second of calmness that washes over her with the inhale. Her voice rings in the Oval calm and clear: 

‘’When I said we were lying, what I meant was… For all these years I thought we were on this path together. But it’s not what I thought it would be. What I convinced myself it would be, like what Thomas wrote. ‘’ 

Her hands have always reminded him of flying swans. Their moves elegant while accompanying harsh blows. His eyebrows are drawn together as she clarifies her thoughts to him, Tom’s words ringing inside her head: ‘’We’re two equal parts.’’ 

_ A cold fusion of two universal elements. Identical in weight, equal in force. United they stand. A union like none other. The un-splittable atom of American politics. _

‘’We are.’’ Francis assures her, confusion painting his face in blue. 

‘’You really believe that?’’ She can’t help but to scoff at his lie. One of the many.

His eyes dart around the Oval, confused about her dismission. Spreading out his hands he points out frustrated: ‘’We earned this together. I said that to your face the first day I walked in here as president. ‘’ 

She shakes her head hoping that the things would be the same before they first stepped foot into this house: ‘’It’s your office, not mine. ‘’

‘’I have not made a single major decision without asking your opinion first.’’ 

She dunks the still burning cigarette into the silver rimmed mug. Fire sizzles out drowning in the liquid. Her perfect composure starts to crack little by little shedding light behind the facade.

‘’But see, that’s it. You make the decisions. Anything I want like the U.N - - It made me ill Francis, my stomach turned.’’ She prowls towards him with her chin raised up. 

‘’Why, because you had to resign?’’ 

‘’No, because I had to ask for your help in the first place. That I couldn’t get the confirmation on my own. ‘’ 

‘’And what is wrong with asking for my help when you need it?’’ He disputes abandoning the white chair he was hiding behind and steps closer to face her immature accusations. 

_ ‘’Hatred. For how much you and Frank needed each other. ‘’ _She can still hear Tom’s voice reciting her own. Of course he can’t see the plight she’s under. Her fingers twitch into a fist. 

‘’The fact that I need it. I hate that feeling. It’s not me. I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I do thing… Like I did in the hotel in Iowa. ‘’ 

He lowers his head, his wide back covering his face in the shadows when she mentions her outburst in Iowa. Spark of shame shoot through him. He made it clear, he does not want to discuss it any further then and there. 

‘’I can’t even talk with you about it.’’ Her voice distorts under the harsh waves of her bottled up emotions. Since when have they started keeping secrets from one another. Since when have they not been able to talk everything through like two adults.

She’s been quiet for far too long. Silencing herself after her outburst in Moscow. Since he told her that it takes _ real courage _ to keep one’s mouth shut, whatever they might be feeling. The scabs still keep coming off leaving her to bleed from the old wounds.

‘’Instead you want me to slap you around like some animal. ‘’ He spits the words at her making her feel humiliated by her impulsive behaviour.

Claire’s voice raises as she drops the facade: ‘’That’s what we are when we strip everything away. That I can understand!’’ 

He mocs her sneering: ‘’It was deranged, begging me to take you like that. ‘’

With a bitter smile she shoots back, the curve of her eyebrows almost playful: ‘’ And you couldn’t even give that to me.’’ 

There are no secrets between them. All of their weapons are shared. Like thieves in the night they are hurrying over the line of saying things they can never take back. But in the heat of the moment, they forget the pleasantries. It’s all about getting the upper hand and showing the other where the real power lies. With loaded guns pointed, they are ready to shoot. 

‘’If you wanted a husband who proved his manhood to you that way, you should have stayed back in Dallas with your mother and married the prom king. ‘’ His anger has already flourished into something more. It’s boiling inside of him, fuming out from his mouth with every word he spits at her.

‘’At least I would have known where I stood.’’ Her gaze like steel as she snaps turning her back to him. Needing distance she struts to the desk grounding herself by leaning her palms against the cool wood. Taking deep breaths in and out she tries to stop the approaching meltdown. Screaming and crying won’t resolve anything.

Frank’s mouth drops as he hurries after provoked by her: ‘’No, you can’t have it both ways.‘’ He walks right besides her stoic form, being far from done with the conversation. 

‘’You want an equal partner, when it suits you? You want a man to take charge when it suits you? And I’m supposed to what, just divine when you want which?’’ 

As she turns her face back to the glowing light, he can see the deep hurt from her blue eyes and the tightness of her mouth. The hurt pulls him closer to her like a drug. 

‘’Stop being so selfish. You’re better than that.’’ 

‘’I’m not being selfish.’’ 

‘’You are. We’re in a middle of an election and look at us.’’ He scorns at her. She’s ruined so much already. 

‘’That’s exactly it. Look at us Francis.’’ She used to think what they had was unique, something untouchable. But now everything is crumbling into her hands, slipping through the cracks of her fingers like the sand grains of the beautiful mandala.

‘’We used to make each other stronger. At least I thought so but that was a lie. We were making you stronger. ‘’ She asserts hoping that he would wake up from his ivory tower and admit his evil ways. That he has twisted her mind like he does with everyone else. That she’s nothing more than another pawn on his chessboard, just a little more precious than the others to be placed on a shiny pedestal. 

Her core shakes from the mix of consternation and anger. Nothing will change if she continues to smile and wave her pom poms. She has to confess what she’s been feeling all these months while playing the perfect part of the First Lady. Insignificant.

‘’And now I’m just weak and small, and I can’t stand that feeling any longer.’’ 

‘’All right. What do you want? What is the goddamn alternative?’’ He collapses on the black leather chair rubbing his fingers against his aching forehead. He wouldn’t have the energy to fight with her about something so petty as this with the campaign going. The black stone egg feels cool against his heated skin as he tries to find a solution to end this abhorrent fit of hers. 

What an ungrateful hellion. He has given her everything. Everything. And now when they’re about to reach the top after all the sacrifices he has made, it’s not enough for her.

He stares deep into the sea of her eyes before pleading: 

‘’Please Claire, tell me because I don’t understand. All I’m hearing is, it’s not enough. That the White House is not enough. That being First Lady is not enough. Not enough! ’’

Nothing could have prepared him for the nuclear winter facing him. Her eyes are unmovable, hard as steel as the words spill from her lips without any waver:

‘’No. It’s you that’s not enough.’’ 

  
  
  
  
  
  


It takes seconds for her words to sink in. The ever stretching silence spreading out between them is terrifying, worse than any cruel words the walls have heard. Water pools in her burning eyes from not blinking. She doesn’t dare to break their heated eye contact as the atmosphere of the Oval swiftly goes ice cold. The high neck of her collar suddenly feels like cutting her airways. 

He grits down his teeth, chewing inside of his mouth as his fingers keep petting the black stone egg gently, before placing it delicately down on the table. There’s no need for duplicity or sweetness. The black egg meets the table with a click finally breaking the suffocating silence. 

His darkened gaze never leaves her icy eyes as he leans forwards over the desk standing up to match her height. From his dark eyes she can see the mask of her husband melt away, revealing the stone cold murderer underneath. The real animal that is Francis J. Underwood. 

‘’When we lose - - because of you, there will be nothing. ‘’ The timbre of his voice makes all of her hairs stand up. Her heart dares to leap outside of her chest banging against its bony cage. Fight or Flight. 

‘’No plan. No future. We will only be has-beens.’’ 

‘’And you want to amount to something. ‘’ His cruel laugh makes her break their eye contact and turn her gaze into the darkness. Containing the urge to snap at him, she swallows back the words that are forming rapidly on her tongue. 

‘’Well here is the brutal fucking truth. And you can hate me, you can be disgusted, you can feel whatever it is that you wanna feel, because frankly I’m beyond caring.’’ 

His words hit like a hammer against her skull. The silence in between punctuating his every word: ‘’But without me you are nothing.’’ 

She doesn’t bear to look at him and see the pure loathing in his eyes. His voice transmits it, words sinking deep into her skin like poison. Her fingertips stay glued to the desktop to stop her hands from fidgeting. She give him the satisfaction of showing weakness while he speaks to her in this manner. He can make her listen but he can’t force her to look at his smug face. 

But the bloodshed isn’t over, the dagger is already deep inside of her chest but he wants the see her squirm.

‘’You’re right. This office only has one chair. And you have always known that from the very beginning. And if you now can’t stomach that, then I’m a fool for having married you in the first place. ‘’ 

Slowly he walks around the station, his dark figure creeping closer in her peripheral vision. His steps are muffled by the plush carpet, heavy and steady as his mouth continues to rip her apart. 

‘’But I don’t have time to be a fool. I have to run this country and win a nomination.‘’ 

Sinking into a fiery pit, his anger is picking up the more he continues to dwell on it. It’s her fault that he has to do this. His eyes flame from days of bottled up hurt, rage and frustration. Her statue like appearance adding more fuel to his fire as her steely eyes show that she’s already flown far away from him. 

‘’I’m doing my job. Doug is out there doing his job. And it’s time for you to do yours. ‘’ 

_ Don’t think. _

His agitated breath burning hot against the shell of her ear causes her to flinch. Getting to her face won’t make her look at him. Her perfect manicure claws at the dark wood. Who’s the animal now.

As she locks up her jaw and tilts her chin up in pride, lightning fast his hand snags forcibly at her chin. Wretching her face toward him, giving her no other option but to follow. His fingers dig hard into the hollows of her high cheekbones, forcing her to stare him deep into the pitch black eyes flaming with fire. Fire facing steel. She can see herself from the pools of black.

‘’You will get on that plane tomorrow. You will come to New Hampshire. You will smile and shake hands and kiss babies. You will stand with me on a stage. And you will be the First Lady! ‘’ 

His breath blazes against her face. Violent shakes of his hand punctuate every word forcing her to follow his vice grip. Pointed nails claw against the back of his hand as she desperately tries to sneak her fingers under his palm to get him to loosen the grip on her jaw in vain. Cheeks forced to grind against her sharp teeth. She will not beg him, even though her jaw could crack under his hand at any given moment.

‘’And you do all that. I don’t give a damn if you vomit on your free time.’’ She winces as he squeezes her jaw harder to prove his point. She’s mortified that he has heard her retch after their clash about the U.N and not say anything before this. 

Her heart beats faster. Every second it’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the panic starts to spiral.

‘’You want me to take charge? Fine. I will take charge. ‘’ The push of his body drives her to step back until she comes to contact with the desk. Blood has pooled underneath his fingers and when he drops his hand, the damage is already done.

  


.:.:.

  


For the first time in his life he doesn’t think, he acts purely on instinct. Broad hands drop to her sweater covered shoulders as he throws her slim frame around. Clutter and her half full porcelain cup fly off the desk, crashing on the floor as her body wipes over the dark wood. Paper crinkles under her elbows as her hands fly up to brace her face from the sudden impact before thudding down. 

All air escapes her lungs as she tries to gasp for air. Before she can lift her chest up, his fist closes tightly in her short blonde hair. A small involuntary whine leaves her lips as his grip presses her face down against the cool wood. Her racing breath foggs the shiny wood as she tries to get a grip of the situation. Blood runs cold as her breathing has become restricted from his body weight crushing down on her. The familiar scent of his cologne reaches her nostrils as his breath brushes against the nape of her neck deriding close to her ear: 

‘’Is this what you wanted?’’ 

Gulping down the protest, her heartbeat hammers against the desk so loudly it echoes in her ears. She will not yield to him. In a desperate attempt to escape, she musters all of her strength pushing up and trying to throw him off of her back. Muscle fibres burning, her body struggles under his heavy frame as he holds her down passively. It’s death quiet except for their agitated breaths. 

Fear of death flashes through her as she melts down on the desk. Is this it. Smothered out like a flame by her husband. Their constant struggle for power reaching its peak here at the Oval office. Many times before she’s deemed herself ready to let go. But now walking along the narrow railing she’s afraid to jump.

She can feel animosity radiating from him. For months they’ve been walking a fine line between love and hate, anger and lust. He doesn’t know which one he feels towards her anymore. Looking into her panicked blue eyes makes his heart and brain clash. She’s always been his only weakness. 

As he scrutinizes her, Claire’s twitching form brings a flashback of her outburst in that hotel room in Iowa. How she came barging in from the bathroom, her hair wet, wearing only a bathrobe demanding him to fuck her hard. To take her roughly on the bed without any reservations. He can almost feel the burn of her palm striking him across the cheek, the fire she ignited in him. 

He stirs in his pants with the memory while panning down her trapped body. Her form silent and dead still waiting for his next move. Feral rage turns into lust as he sees desperation and fear flash through the icy blue of her eyes. 

‘’Isn’t this how you wanted it?’’ He mocs against her ear before the pressure against her scalp is relieved as his hand slips away. Relying that she has learned to stay put on her place. 

Cold shivers shoot along her nerves as his hands claim her. Rough hands feel like fire as they drift over her ass, reaching for the hem of her long skirt. The fabric surrenders with a stretch as he takes a handful of the skirt and rips it over her thighs. A sharp gasp leaves her as her black stiletto heels lift up from the floor thudding back against the carpet with the strength of his pull. He doesn’t bother with her nude coloured panties as he unceremoniously creases the black fabric around her middle.

With a tap of his hand he nudges her legs apart to make more room for himself. Enjoying the view of her back arched beautifully over the desk, the height of her legs tilting her toned ass up to him. A true smile plays on his lips as his hands climb across her taut hamstrings, sliding over her ass cheeks. The contrasts of the cold air hitting her bare skin makes her shiver. Fear starts to slide away from her heart as his hands caress her. Maybe she’s not in such a grave danger. His warm touch spreads tingles that travel up and down her spine as her heels struggle to find stability for her trembling legs from the soft carpet.

The air in the Oval feels heady. The suspense is killing her as his hands continue to skate over her bare skin. Painting of George Washington must be watching her bare ass sternly. She prays that the house staff or secret service won’t come barging in and witness their own special way of dealing with power imbalance and insolence. 

Her cheek pressed against the desk, she can only see the decorative bookshelf and the painting of rising storm clouds. Focusing solely on her breathing, she’s forced to heel. She doesn’t want to think about the licks of pleasure his familiar hands coax out of her touch starved skin as he maps her curves out. One of his questing hands stops on top of her lower back, holding her hips down steady against the desktop. 

The smack of his hand cracks against her ass, splitting the silence. Yelp that follows the crack is the first sound that has left her lips since he brutally forced her against the table. The smack rings against the Oval’s walls, leaving a red print of his hand on Claire’s white ass. 

It definitely stings. She’s out of breath from the sheer mortification. More shocked from the act itself than the pain. Wave of humiliation washes over her as the pain from his strike starts to dissolve. Realizing the game they’re playing, she draws in a deep breath steeling herself and shutting her eyes. She can take whatever he gives her.

His hand lingers on her skin before pulling back and delivering the third smack on her ass. He enjoys seeing her still white skin ripple underneath his brute force. He would love to belt her, to see her twitch and pant in pain. Leaving her red and aching for days. It would serve as a real lesson but he wouldn’t be able to control himself in this state of mind, thus he has to settle for his bare hands.

He falls into a rhythm, starting out with lighter priming strikes. Pink flush colouring her white skin after every spank. Switching the sensations from light swats to punishing strikes ever so often to keep Claire on her toes. He didn’t bother to remove his rings that catch the light every time he lifts his hand. With every strike his heavy carved class ring scratches while his wedding ring bruises her skin, leaving deep red prints all across her ass cheeks. 

She keens as his particularly swift strike hit her: ‘’You wanted me to take charge? Well there you go.’’ 

His hardening spanks leave her skin burning hot and red. Sweat has started to bead along her spine as her thighs shake from the extortion.

She will not beg for him to stop. It’s all about establishing dominance. Her knuckles have turned white as she hangs on to the desktop as hard as she can. Lower lip bruised blue from her teeth. She tries to focus on anything else than the burn of his blows on her skin as they rain down on her. If she listens hard enough she can hear the rhythm of their ragged breathing coming out in sync. Trying to regulate her rapid breathing, she tries to remember all of the horses they had at the ranch to stop her from dreading the next strike. Determined to block his fire with unmovable ice.

Through the harsh bite of pain, she can’t prevent licks of pleasure that is slowly starting to bubble up inside of her, rising to the surface through the burn. A rush of dopamine released with every strike against her tender flesh. Small spasm of pleasure coming right after the punishing sting of his hand and the humiliation that continues to wash over her. He knows how to take advantage of her darkest parts. He knows she doesn’t want the pulsing pleasure. She wants to feel the bite of his pain, his anger on her skin. The burst of emotions that will finally break the facade they’ve fallen under. 

He raises his hand aiming on the untouched skin on the lower part of her ass, just under the sit bones. The squeal that leaves her lips with the spank is delectable. The back of his thigh is hit with her heel, as it flies up from the floor with the impact against her ass. 

That spank leaves her breathing hard against her hand, sucking breaths between her fingers to keep her from crying out. Lump pressing against her throat wants to sob. The harsh sting of his hand leaves burning pleasure in its awake. Nerve endings confused as her cunt clenches hard in pleasure. 

Patting the top of her ass gently he admires his handiwork. Showing mercy Frank ops to caressing her bright red ass as her skin trembles under his touch. His traveling hands cup her bright red ass, tracing on the purple bruises he’s inflicted. Frank can’t help but to smirk as his thumb brushes lower against the hot and damp gusset of her panties. His dark chuckle echoes in the room as he draws a wheeze out of Claire when his thumb finds her thrumming clit. He should have known she’s just as aroused as he is. 

The boring panties rip apart from the side seam as he pulls them off, not bothering to drop them down her long legs. Unceremoniously he unzips his pants pushing them down his hips before stroking his cock. There’s no need for foreplay. He just needs to take, take, take until there’s nothing left. 

A ragged moan escapes her tight set lips as he cleaves her open. He thrusts slowly, almost gently, inside of her wet cunt enjoying the way she clenches against him. Eyes flying open she bites back a moan. The set-up has made her hyper sensitive as she can feel every inch of him stretching her. Her legs shake almost uncontrollably under her as she lifts her face off the table, balancing on her forearms. Taking a hold of her hips, he drags her ass against him hilting inside of her. 

Air escapes her lungs as his hips suddenly carve out two deep thrusts before going still. Pleasure ripples through the pain as her hips try to chase the echo of his thrusts rocking against him involuntarily. Her battered body aching for more. He grunts watching as her body continues to quiver desperately. There’s not many things he enjoys more than disheveled Claire and there is more he’s able to do. Deciding she’s squirmed enough he pulls almost out of her warmth before slamming back in. 

The desk rattles as her hips hit against the edge with his thrusts as he fucks her hard. Pleasure and pain searing through her core as she hangs on the slippery desk. Body slowly coiling with pleasure as her chafed nipples brush against lace with every rock. The pain on her ass slowly forgotten by the pulsing of her core as his swift thrust rattle her. This is just what she wanted two days ago.

The original purpose of her reckless actions have already become meaningless. She only wanted to see if he still cares enough for her to take her like this. But now her ploy is too late. She already has her answer. 

The old portrait of them before her eyes on the side table mocs her. She will always remember his first congressional campaign. Smiles painted on their faces with their hands clasped together, waving at the roaring crowd. Memories flashing before her eyes of all the times they’ve campaigned, smoked, plotted and won together. It all seems like light years away. Their unbreakable union cracked open by simple hallway of ten yards wide. Nowadays the distance feels more than a thousand miles.

Head lolling forward she snaps out of her haze as he reines her arms behind her back, pulling her up from the desk against his thrusts. Teeth gritted her shoulder sing under the weight as he holds her. Moans sneak past her pursed lips. His hips continue to piston against her showing no mercy. The change of angle making wet heat rush through her faster with every thrust. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t hold herself much longer. Her pleasure neglected and touch starved body going into overdrive. Her body needs to come, disheveling under Francis’ practiced thrusts. 

He smirks as he can feel her cunt rippling on his length. Her hushed moans drive him onward with increasing delirium. Nothing on his mind except for one goal: to drive her over the edge first. With a huff he focuses on the need to claim her. His grip tight on her wrists as he pulls her back against his thrusts, finding the most efficient angle. He can’t pretend he’s not affected by this. Moan escapes him from the blissful feeling of her core gripping on his cock. 

She hates her traitorous body more than she hates him at the moment. Pleasure climbs up her chest in a rosy hue, pressing against her lungs. It makes her vision hazy and her legs shake as the suffocating peak approaches. 

‘’Look at my face when you come on my cock.’’ He commands fiercely, snatching a fistful of her hair as he wretches her all way up against his chest. Tugging her scalp makes her whimper and protest from the pain but their heated eye contact does nothing to stop her from tipping over. 

‘’Don’t stop - -’’ Her hoarse voice moans desperately under his assault as she feels the first waves washing over her like cold water. White spots covering her vision as she squeezes her eyes shut. He can taste the sweet victory as his precise thrusts hammer against her swollen g-spot, not giving her any other choice but to come on his cock. Her body falling apart under the throes of pleasure. 

He pants against the nape of her neck slowing his sharp thrust, enjoying the feeling as she convulses on him. Bottoming out inside of her he keeps her steady, waiting for her to come down from her high as her whole body writhes against him uncontrollably. With arms crossed over her chest, he can feel her heart pumping rapidly.

He sinks into her hair and draws in deep breaths to calm himself down. He can recognize smoke, the faint whiff of her perfume, shampoo and the scent that is purely her. Continuing to empty his mind until she finally exhales falling limp against his arms. He pulls out of her warmth, lifting her limp body back on the desk. 

Laying her carefully down, she grimaces from the dull pain. Claire’s eyes are shut as she tries to catch her still wheezing breath. Her mind scattered somewhere far away. Unable to feel her toes, her legs feel numb while they hang limply from the edge. Grinding her teeth together she can still feel small spasms continue to run through her nerves like electric wiring. 

He wants to savour this victory before the rosy veil of pleasure is lifted and the realization and consequences dawn over him. It will only take seconds for the moment to turn into ashes in his mouth. If he’s learned something in the 29 years they have been married, is that she gets so tight after she’s come. He’s ready to sink deep into the pleasure and enjoy his addiction that is Claire Hale Underwood. His thumb swipes over her swollen outer lips spreading her wetness around. Sliding across her over sensitive clit before his blunt head pushes against her. Her inner walls resisting him meekly before slowly yielding under his invasion letting him back in. 

She tries to dwell in the mindless pleasure as long as possible, not wanting to face her husband now when the blissful waves have faded into a dull ache in her cunt and the shadow of burning pain on her ass. Guilt and self-hatred peeking from the edges of her consciousness gnawing at her. She winces from the discomfort as he re-enters her bending his body over hers.

Claire’s too long bangs have created a veil covering her eyes. Tendrils of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead hiding her face from him. His fingers comb her hair back almost tenderly so he can look her ocean eyes. The raging storm from minutes ago has stilled into soft waves within her. Cold calculating stare from before has faded from her eyes. He can see a ambiguous shine to her irises that he cannot read. 

His broad hands find her wrists close to her shoulders, capturing her as he pushes her down back against the desk with this weight. Palms slide together entwining their fingers tightly. No way out. She can feel his hardness twitch inside of her as she gulps hard. She should know after all these years if Francis gives, he also takes. 

She’s unable to do anything else than wait for him to take her. And if she knows her husband it shouldn’t take too long. Her rosy lips fall open in confusion as he leans over her chest to chest. Familiar deep amber staring back at her. It’s hard to look him in the eyes without getting cross-eyed. He leans in closer, nose to her cheek until their lips meet. Claire’s soft lips open against his in capitulation. He breathes heavy, mouth to mouth before whispering: 

‘’Is this what you hoped it would be?’’

He slices her chest open. Her lower lip trembles against his as she prays he can’t see the tear threatening to fall from her eye. Teeth bite down on her lower lip, blood gushing to the surface.

She gulps back the emotions washing over her beat body. The high collar of her shirt chokes her even though his weight lies against her arms. Opening her neck to him, she admits her momentarily loss. His teeth nip the newly bared skin of her neck close to her ear marking her. Tilting her head back, blue eyes search for the stars and stripes. His lips sear intimate kiss to her neck that does nothing to make this exchange seem more human as his hips start to move against her languidly. Both of them reduced to serve their animalistic instincts. They have become a pair of marionettes hanging together by a brittle thread of mutual need. 

Her hands stretched above her, she arches under him. The silence of the Oval fades with his raspy grunts of pleasure as he fucks her. Red, white and blue dissolve together as she closes her eyes biting down a breathy gasp. Black heels cross quietly behind his back, tying him close to her. Her mind slipping back to somewhere dark where his hands are unable to reach her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't say that I'm the only one who thought this while watching the scene. 
> 
> I just had to get this out. This is actually from the last installation of my series called Requiem. So I will actually continue on this and you'll see the aftermath. 
> 
> All the comments are appreciated and encouraged.


End file.
